


as you wish

by indiavolojones



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Gender Neutral MC - Freeform, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiavolojones/pseuds/indiavolojones
Summary: “Thathesitation.Youmusthave more confidence than that,” Lucifer’s expression is stern, but amused, as if he’s helping you go over your notes on Devildom history rather than goading you into strangling him with your thighs, “If you want something, you can command me.”“I will not bow to anyone but you like this.”(#”sub!lucifer”, sexually inexperienced and explorative!mc, a dash of praise kink, and a dollop of love. if you squint and like, look while it’s storming heavily outside I guess there’s bdsm.)
Relationships: Lucifer/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 354





	as you wish

—-

“Do you think I would make a pact with just anyone?” Lucifer hums against your inner thigh, and you tremble as his hands near the hem of your underwear. 

“No,” you shiver, unsure if it’s from the chill of the room or from the scant, enticing touches he’s allowing you. Lucifer’s eyes, gazing up through dark lashes from his position between your legs as you’re seated on his desk, narrow in the slightest.

“ _There_.” He says, halting his movements. 

“What?” You ask, struck dumb by want. 

“That _hesitation_. You _must_ have more confidence than that,” Lucifer’s expression is stern, but amused, as if he’s helping you go over your notes on Devildom history rather than goading you into strangling him with your thighs, “If you want something, you can command me.” The soft pads of his leather glove trails against the edge, hooking under the elastic band of the soft fabric and pulling down. Your underwear starts to come off, but Lucifer stops before any real distance is made. 

“I will not bow to anyone but you like this.” 

Your breath is caught in your chest, stunned at the vision Lucifer makes as he’s knelt on the carpet, his silky hair tickling your legs. 

“Go on, then,” you mumble, Lucifer nips at your skin and doesn’t move. He looks at you expectantly. You narrow your eyes with a huff. 

“ _Take them off_ ,” you say, firmer than before. Lucifer nods his head in pleased deference, and the sight stirs something unknowable, something _carnal_ , in you. He slides your underwear fully off, and you shiver with a mix of lust and bashfulness at being fully exposed before him. Breath catching in your throat, you cough away the flare of nerves at the silence. You realize, as he makes no further motion, that he’s _still_ waiting for you, the bastard. 

“Use your mouth.” At your command, Lucifer is smiling as he leans in. 

“As you wish,” he says. Lucifer wastes no time with teasing motions, applies the perfect amount of pressure with his tongue. Even his pace is controlled, steady–it’s so efficient that you already know that you could probably come if he was left to his own devices. Lucifer makes no motion to stop, does not seek out further instruction–he sticks to the task you’ve given him, unyielding in his devotion. 

Everything is lost but the soft, sound of his mouth; open, eager, obediently devouring you. You thread your hand through his hair, grinding your hips up into his mouth. He hums at your insistence, hands gripping your thighs harder.

You could keep him here for hours, you realize. 

But the leeway Lucifer has given you is a curious, dangerous thing–one that you want to explore further, despite how nice fucking his mouth for hours sounds. 

“I want you to touch me. Keep your gloves on,” you say, cheeks flushed, out of breath but _confident_. The surge of pride in you only grows when Lucifer’s lips quirk upwards in a smile, and dim light catches the wetness covering his chin. He wipes it off with the back of the glove, and licks his lips. 

“As you wish,” he presses his smile to the skin of your thigh as a ghost of kiss. Bringing his gloved fingers to his mouth, you watch with a dry mouth as he swirls his tongue around the leather. You want to know what it tastes like as well, want to feel him spread his fingers over your own tongue, want him to fuck your mouth with them–but not right now. Right now you’re enchanted by the show Lucifer is giving, and yet, you know he’s playing with you. Narrowing your eyes, you tug on his hair. 

“ _Lucifer_.” You say, attempting to mimic his authoritative tone. If Lucifer finds it amusing, he keeps the commentary to himself as he stops his teasing drag.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the first breach of his fingers, not much of a discernible difference in how the leather feels versus his fingers, but just _knowing_ is enough. It could just be a confirmation bias, but if you squeeze, they appear to feel thicker than usual thanks to the layer. Lucifer curls his digits upwards in a way he knows makes you see stars. 

Content to let him work you open and pleasure you with his talented mouth, you allow yourself to watch him work rather than toss your head back in ecstasy like usual. Lucifer’s eyes are closed, his hair disheveled from your hands and falling into his face. You will never get over how gorgeous he is, how angelic he looks, even in the midst of sin. 

Lucifer teases pleasured moans from you with his steady pace, quickly working you to an edge where all sense loses meaning. However, just as you’re about to come, you pull on his hair, “Stop, Lucifer, _stop_.” 

He halts in his worship of your body, eyes looking up at you inquisitively, aware of the image he paints. He pulls away from the part of you that aches for him to press a dragging kiss against your innermost thigh, close to the curve of your pelvis. The intimate image is outrageous. Reaching down, you wrap your hand around the length of his tie and tug him up to mash your lips together. 

“Bed,” you demand, in between a flurry of open-mouthed, gasping kisses. Lucifer chuckles against your mouth, his arms wrapping around you and picking you up with ease. 

“Would you like me to continue?” Lucifer licks his lips, and your cheeks burn bright red as you realize the taste you’d kissed from his lips was _yours_. You shove away any shyness, relying on that deliriously warm feeling of Lucifer trusting you with this to give you the strength. 

“No. Put me down, I want to ride you.” You give him a salacious grin, and Lucifer’s eyebrows rise. His smile is slow, assessing, interested. Lucifer gently lets you down, before he starts to get on the bed.

“Wait!” Lucifer turns over his shoulder to look at you, and he looks endeared by the bright red flush over your face. You exhale, “Strip.” 

Lucifer’s smile grows, and he nods his head in that dizzying show of respect. 

Heat pools in your belly at the sound of his next words, “ _As you wish_.” 

-

\- 

Lucifer extends a hand out to you, his long limbs strewn across the silky expanse of his bed. 

“No. Put your hands above your head.” You breathe, taking in the sight of Lucifer bare for your eyes to see. Lucifer’s eyes widen, before he lets out a soft huff of laughter. As much as he’s encouraged your dominance, to have you take it for your own instead of at his guidance is new. Not unwelcome, as it wouldn’t be his submission if he didn’t let you choose the direction. His hands rise to lay above his head, and your mouth goes dry at how it makes his muscles shift under his skin.

You clench your jaw as you approach, climbing into the bed after him. Straddling his thighs is nothing new, but there’s a muted interest in Lucifer’s eyes as you press three of your fingers to his mouth. Lucifer indulges you, opening his mouth and lavishing his tongue across the digits. Your blush grows as you recall just where his mouth was, not five minutes ago. Seeing Lucifer perform such an obscene act shoots such a direct pulse of lust through you, and you suddenly can’t have him soon enough.

“That’s,” you swallow, “That’s enough.” 

Lucifer stops, his tongue dragging along your index finger as you pull your hand away. You’re not sure if you breathe at all in the scant moments where you’re slicking Lucifer’s cock and then pressing it to your entrance–but the drag as you take him is _everything_. 

Muffling your cry into the back of your hand as you bottom out, you quiver as you adjust to his girth. Eventually, and you take your time, you begin to move. 

Perhaps it is too slow of a pace, borne of your need to go slow, but you find that chasing your pleasure has taken a back seat to simply staring down at Lucifer as you ride him. You allow your hands to trace over his skin, palms flat against his cheeks when you cup his face in both hands. You bend over to press a long, lingering kiss to his lips. He deepens the kiss, nipping at your lower lip. A whine escapes your lips, squeezing around him and pulling till it’s just the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” you hiss, as you lower yourself fully onto his cock and he bottoms out again, his thighs pressed against yours.

“If you are trying to break me this way, it will not work,” he says your name softly, even as Lucifer grinds his hips upward, “I have _much_ more patience than you.” You want to snort at this comment and call him out on it, but words are difficult right now.

“I just–I want to look at you,” You narrow your eyes at him, but your innocent intentions are less believable when the evidence of your desire is undeniable between you. 

“You look at me all the time,” he says, cheekily, and he begins to bring his hand down from above him, possibly to touch your face to check on you. You clench hard enough around him and pull your hips up drastically enough that it makes his eyes screw shut, and a hushed groan escapes his lips. 

“ _Stop_.” You say, and Lucifer freezes–not from the pact, you would have felt the magic rising within you–but of his own volition at the resonance of your voice. Something assessing, and a little more dangerous enters his gaze at your first true command. You lick your lips, nails dragging across his exposed chest. Faint, red scratches appear on his pale skin. 

“Hands above your head, light-bringer,” you whisper, biting your lower lip in your teeth. 

A sharp, hot flash of _something_ flickers across his face, almost too quick to catch, but then Lucifer is bringing his hands back above his head. He crosses them in a demure, submissive fashion at his bare wrists, but the calculating heat in his eyes is anything but. Silence stretches between the two of you; you, caught up in a rush of delight at having Lucifer obey you, and Lucifer, desperately trying to understand what you’re doing.

“You’re beautiful,” you say, and Lucifer’s question is deafening in his silence. 

Your hands run lovingly over his chest, tracing the defined lines of it at your own leisure. Lucifer has never just let you _enjoy_ him like this, and you want to take this opportunity to do so–there’s always a slight fear that each time will be the last time, despite his reassurances. 

Placing your hands on either side of him, your hips raise, before you lower back down with a moan. Lucifer is phenomenal at keeping his composure, but you are becoming well-versed in the tiny ways he restrains himself. His lips, slick with spit after he’s licked them. The high flush at the tops of his cheeks. His hair, dishevelled by _your_ hands running through them. 

His wrists are astonishingly still where they lay, even as you can see the strain in his shoulders, the clenching of his abdomen. A startled, breathless laugh leaves your lips at the sight, and you shake your head ruefully. 

“How is it that I am so lucky to be yours? You’re so patient with me. So _kind_.” 

Lucifer looks genuinely confused, and you move your grab each of his hands in one of your own. You’re not attempting to pin him down, but rather use the steadiness of his grip to support yourself up. He effortlessly grinds his hips up into you, you can’t help the way your head tips back with a moan. 

“I want you in more ways than this,” Lucifer begins, his hands tightening their grip on yours, “And not all of them are kind.” He mumbles your name like a warning, and it’s enough to make you dizzy with the sheer want of it all. You want to experience what Lucifer wants to share with you. Regardless of whatever that means, you’ll be open to trying it, if it means keeping Lucifer at your side.

“But you wouldn’t dare,” you laugh, and before he can mistake it for mockery, you press your lips to the down turned corner of his mouth in a delicate kiss, “Because you’ll wait for me to be ready. _That’s_ why you’re kind, Lucifer.” 

Lucifer’s lips part, but nothing comes out. A shift of your hips has his cock touching something deep inside you that makes your toes curl, and you let yourself lose your composure for a moment to chase the feeling. 

“ _Thank you_ ,” you say again, breathless, “I want everything, even the unkind things. I told you, I’m yours. Just, ah, _slowly_ ,” You arch your back, hands moving to support yourself on his chest while your thighs tremble as you ride him. You’re not sure if you’re properly expressing your desire to be stripped bare before him, to explore the unknown depths of your depravity. To have Lucifer play your body like a finely tuned instrument, eliciting screams, gasps, or whimpers at his leisure. 

You just need time to discover the barriers that Lucifer can break down with sheer, raw strength, and the ones that need to be dismantled carefully, brick by brick. From the beginning, Lucifer has been terrifyingly intune with your body, to the point where he seems to sense when something will be too much. But even so, that kind of trust is not easily given. You made a pact with Lucifer, to be his, as he is yours–and hell, you want it. 

Not once, ever, has Lucifer tried to break you in a way that you could not recover from. Lucifer exercises perfect control in all moments. Except for right now, when he suddenly sits up, and it’s such a jerky moment, you nearly fall off the bed. 

“ _Lucifer_ ,” you choke on a strangled moan at Lucifer shifting, his arms breaking their position above his head to twist around your waist to keep you steady. He thrusts up into your tight heat, strong arms almost suffocating in their hold. Your head tosses back, arms looping around his shoulders, nails digging into his back as you let the pleasure overtake you.

“Who taught you how to talk like this,” Lucifer pants, in between thrusts and almost indignant, and you’re surprised by the laugh that bursts from your lips. 

“If I am at all depraved, it is because of you,” you say, ends of words hitching as you cling to Lucifer as he takes you with a new strength now that he’s broken his self-imposed submission. With Lucifer lifting you like you weigh nothing by your hips and thrusting deep into your core, it is all you can do to not scream at the overwhelming stimulation. Lucifer swallows your moans in a bruising kiss, before he’s leaning back to press three gloved fingers at your mouth.

“Open your mouth, darling,” Lucifer whispers, “And I will show you what _true_ depravity is like.” 

Immediately, you part your lips to taste the black leather against your tongue. 

_Ah well,_ so much for dominating him.

-

-

“Someday, I want to taste you when you come apart. I want to hear what you sound like when you’re stretched to your limits.” Lucifer murmurs, sounding far too romantic to be talking about ruining you. Your fingers tap an irregular rhythm against his chest, the rest of you comfortably tucked in at his side. Unlike the untouchable exterior he wears in public, it is easy to curl close to Lucifer after sex. 

He does not say anything when he strokes the tremors out of your limbs after you cum, body contorted in toe-curling pleasure for what feels like the hundredth time. He never questions the way you cling to him like a port in the storm, chasing the safety of his presence. Lucifer softens his voice to grant you peace of mind. You have never been more grateful.

“And I,” you say, with drawn out, exaggerated magnanimity in your voice, “Will allow you to." 

Lucifer scoffs before he presses a kiss to your hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lucifer constantly lives in a hell of his own making. I love the concept of a sexually inexperienced MC starting off with all these horny thoughts but no idea how to make them a reality. Lucifer is like, fuck, I _got_ this. 
> 
> and then Lucifer and MC really just, I don’t know, develop a healthy bdsm relationship. this fic would be somewhere near the beginning, considering how light it is. 
> 
> p.s. no one knows ur body like u do but i think lucifer’s centuries of possible sexual experience are a pretty good base line to work off of, anyway, this is a work of fiction and i am sleepy and might change things when I get up, but here you gooo


End file.
